Surrender
by strawberryfinn
Summary: He's a high school dropout trying to pay for his mom's hospital bills. She's a famous Broadway star. He kidnaps her to get the money he needs. Should be simple: demand a ransom and get the money. But wait. He never planned on falling in love. FINCHEL AU
1. Finn: Seizing the Diva

**Author's Note**: Hi guys! I'm back... after a very long time. I've recently fallen in love with _Glee _and I've decided to give writing _Glee _fanfics a try. If you like it, please leave me some reviews! I don't own _Glee _or any of the characters, as much as I wish I did.

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><p><strong>SURRENDER<strong>

He's a poor, high school drop-out trying to find a way to pay for his mom's hospital bills. She's an upper-class, famous Broadway star. Opposites attract. He kidnaps her to get the money he needs. Should be simple enough. Demand a ransom, get the money, and hand her over. But wait. He never planned on falling in love.

**Genre**: AU/Romance/Drama/Hurt/Comfort

**Rating**: T (for now)

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><p><strong>Chapter 1.2: Seizing the Diva<strong>

_**Finn**_

I hate Sundays. I love them as well. I'm not really sure. I can't work on Sunday because my employer's a really religious Christian who spends all Sunday in church, so I always feel unproductive. On the other hand, it's time for me to take a break. So usually on Sundays, I go visit Mom. I visit her everyday, regardless, but on Sundays I get the chance to spend a long time with her. Even though she never says anything when I'm there anyways.

I finish my bowl of Rice Krispies and put it inside the sink. I guess I'll wash it later. My apartment is pretty messy. There are dishes everywhere and boxers on the floor and crap, but honestly, I don't care. It was cleaner when Mom was still living here.

I walk around my apartment and pick on a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt lying on the ground. I don't think either of them have been washed for a few weeks and the shirt has a stain on it, but whatever. I'm not working today and I have more things to worry about than if I look clean or not.

I brush my teeth and leave my apartment, picking up a newspaper outside my door. Ms. Moby, this really old woman who live across from me, always leaves her newspapers at my door after she's done reading. I'm really grateful for it and I think she knows that. Well I hope she knows that; I thank to her all the time. And besides, I always go over and change the lights for her and stuff. And she's always saying, "Thanks, Finn. Finn Hudson, you're growing to be such a fine boy," and embarrassing me so much I can feel my face flushing up and my ears turning red. She even squeezes my biceps. Who does that?

Anyways, I pick up the newspaper and glance disinterestedly at the front page. It's about some stupid conference or celebrity passing through that's happening in town at the hotel my apartment's close to. You'd think they'd build a hotel in a place that was nicer because I live in a pretty crappy area even though you'd think Ohio is not that bad of a place.

Anyways, some cast members from this new Broadway show in New York called _Glitter _or something is passing through to meet adoring fans. Whatever. I don't see why they need a full-color, half page picture of the cast. I glance at the caption under the smiling stars. _Pictured from right to left: Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray, Mercedes Jones, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Mike Chang, Sam Evans, and Brittany Pierce. _I don't get what the big deal is—I mean, I've never been to a Broadway show, but really? What's the huge fuss? Don't they just sing and dance and wear sparkly costumes?

I walk down five flights of stairs (damn it, why can't this place have an elevator?), get my mail from the lady downstairs, and unlock my car, chucking the newspaper onto the passenger seat. I'm going to go visit Mom. The hospital's relatively close to my apartment, which is good, I guess. You just drive down past the hotel and then it's two blocks after that.

I pick through my mail and my eyes stop on one envelope. I can feel my stomach drop with dread. It's from St. Sabian's. I rip open the envelope and pull out the formally typed letter.

_To Whom It May Concern:_

We are reluctant to inform you that your hospital fees are overdue. You have failed to pay for medical treatment that has been provided for patient Carole Hudson. If this patient continues to require treatment, these bills must be paid.

Current Amount Owed: $4,879.92

I don't read any further than that. How the hell am I supposed to get that kind of money? I'm a 17-year-old, high school dropout working full time, seven days a week. I'm even trying to get another job. I skip meals and haven't gotten any new clothes in the last two months. I buy shirts on sale at Old Navy. I get paychecks at the end of every week and cash them immediately because I don't have money otherwise; I have troubles living through every day. I don't even have enough money to pay that last 92 cents!

I feel a lump in my throat and I manage to stop myself from crying like a baby. Crying's not going to help me or my mom so I might as well not do it. Besides, I have to man up.

Blinking back tears, I shove my keys into my car, and start driving. I try hard not to think about the money, but that stupid $4000—no, almost $5000, won't get out of my head. Damn it.

I stop at an intersection in front of the hotel and glance at it. I wonder what it's like in there; it looks so damn fancy from outside.

I really hate being poor.

I gaze disinterestedly around the rest of the hotel and I stop and stare at a girl walking to her car, her head hunched over and her nose buried in a white scarf. She gets my attention because first off, her car is _nice_. It's a sleek, black Mercedes that makes my battered Toyota look pretty bad. Second, she looks familiar. Like really, really familiar and I can't remember where I've seen her. She's wearing a really short purple dress that somehow she pulls off without looking like a slut and she's got straight, shiny brown hair that goes past her shoulders. Her face is small and thin, and is framed by her face. She has huge brown eyes and a slender body. And I've definitely seen her somewhere before.

I realize the light is green, and I push down on the gas pedal, the newspaper in the passenger seat catching my eye. Now I know why she looks so familiar. She's a _Glitter _star. Wait. _She's a star_. She has money. Lots of money. Well maybe not her, but the show's directors and writers. They have money. I need money.

And it clicks.

I'm gonna kidnap her. I'm gonna kidnap her, get the money, and give her back safe and sound. I make a u-turn and drive back and look at her, still walking towards her car. No, wait. She's talking on her cell. I guess this would be as good of a time as any.

I park my car and step out hesitantly. Walking over to her, I make a noise in my throat and wait until she hangs up. When she turns, she looks at me like she's smelled something gross. Her eyes narrow in disgust, and even though she probably barely hits five feet, she's pretty damn intimidating. Alright—I admit I look pretty shabby in my faded jeans and my stained shirt, but this girl, this girl's a _bitch__!_

I swallow again and look at her. "Uh, do you have the time?"

She rolls her eyes and checks her phone. I look anywhere but her piercing, evil eyes. I cough nervously and stare at the floor, telling myself there is no way in hell that I am intimidated by a dwarf who makes her living singing and dancing.

When she looks at her phone, I grab my chance. Slapping a hand over her mouth, I hoist her up (she's actually pretty easy to carry; must be because she's a _midget_), and I rush to put her in my car.

One problem: she bites me.

With a yelp, I almost drop her. My hand is _bleeding_, this little bitch bites so hard. She opens her mouth to scream and I hit her in the stomach before she gets anything out. Alright, I punched a girl and I know you're thinking I'm a complete jerk, but I can't let her scream. I can't let my mom find me in jail! That would probably be enough to kill her if her cancer's not enough.

The girl doubles over and I pick her up, ignoring my bleeding hand. I run and shove her into the backseat of my car, rummaging for some duct tape I have in the front compartment and praying to God that no fans will come out of somewhere and demand to know what I'm doing with this girl. Once I slap some tape on her mouth and tape her hands together, she's just crying and protesting and throwing me death glares even though her mouth is covered with tape.

Well, this went well.

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><p><em>Please review! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think :)<em>


	2. Rachel: This is all Will's Fault

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! I'm a little new to the _Glee _fanfiction world but I'm excited for this story and hope I can continue to please you guys with it. I also have some ideas for some _Glee _one-shots featuring other characters that I'm pretty excited for! Anyways, this is Rachel's perspective on what happened and it's a _lot _harder to write from Rachel's POV for sure... I tried to get into the diva-mindset but if you guys have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Glee _or any of the characters.

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><p><strong>SURRENDER<strong>

He's a poor, high school drop-out trying to find a way to pay for his mom's hospital bills. She's an upper-class, famous Broadway star. Opposites attract. He kidnaps her to get the money he needs. Should be simple enough. Demand a ransom, get the money, and hand her over. But wait. He never planned on falling in love.

**Genre**: AU/Romance/Drama/Hurt/Comfort

**Rating**: T (for now)

**Warnings**: Violence, Language

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: This is all Will's Fault<strong>

_**Rachel**_

Damn these road trips and damn these hotels. Why can't they see that we should just stay in New York? In New York, my name is in the lights and people love and worship me. I mean, what's the point of going around and touring to different states like godforsaken _Ohio? _I mean, I admit that I do have an obligation to my fans and that I do enjoy all the attention, but couldn't we just do the exciting states? Like California and New York and... well, Hollywood and New York are all I care for, really. I mean, what other states matter?

Does Ohio even have fans? Because, I mean, for the most part, don't Ohioans just have cows?

I suppose I shouldn't be so condescending. I mean, I was born in Ohio, but I swore to God that if I ever got out I would never get back again—and I haven't. I mean, it's not like my dads mind—once I got the news about _Glitter, _they both moved out to New York anyways, and with my busy schedule with all my auditions and practices, it works out better that way. I didn't leave anything behind in Lima that I couldn't bring to New York—and I mean absolutely nothing, I brought _everything—_and Lima definitely doesn't have anything New York doesn't.

Yes, I'll admit, living life from show to show is hard sometimes and sometimes I would like to engage in conversation with someone other than my fellow cast members—most of whom resent me for my talent anyway, but they can't help it, they're just _jealous _of me and wished that they had a single ounce of my talent—but to be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way. Sure, my schedule is busy and waking up at 6:30 in the morning can be kind of tiring as well as my tutoring lessons with Blaine, but I am a star and to be great I must make sacrifices. And sacrificing a social life with average, normal people? Not a heavy price to pay for the truly _glamorous_, celebrity lifestyle I lead.

Turning sixteen has at least made these trips a tad more sufferable. My fathers have agreed to let me bring my car on the road with me so when I need time for a breather and just some space, I can take my beautiful Mercedes and drive off somewhere so I can hear myself think for several seconds. And it also gives me a break from riding in that godforsaken tour bus of ours.

Really, who wants to ride in that tour bus all the time? I mean, I have been attempting to get closer to some of my cast members, but they never seem to want to hear about my talent, and I feel as though my skills are something important and wonderful to share to the world. The people who don't want to listen to me aren't worth it. I'd rather listen to Broadway classics in my sleek car, and the reason they are all resentful is because they're just upset that they don't have the luxury of distancing themselves once in awhile.

Oh but this rotten hotel too. This may be the worst one yet. Honestly, you would think that Will would find a better place for us to say—after all, what kind of director doesn't take the best care of his stars? We—at least _I—_deserve better than this hotel. We are staying here for only one night and are hitting the road again tomorrow, so why couldn't Will have found a better place? Now I am sitting in this utterly dingy room that smells of stale bread. I'm lucky to have my privacy—Will at least allowed me to have my own room rather than sharing with Santana or Brittany or _Quinn, _but it was the least he could do since he put us in such a crappy place to begin with.

Where in the hell am I, anyway? Actually, hell may be right. I mean, I am from Lima, but I'm not sure what city in Ohio we're even in. This town is the slummiest of the shanties I've ever been. There must be a poultry-processing plant nearby because I've counted eighteen trucks full of caged chickens through the window in the past two hours. The air outside is dank from the stench of it and this environment _cannot _be good for my voice in any which way. I highly doubt there are any good vegan places even around to accommodate me, so on top of the suffering I have had to undergo so far, I may be lacking food too, which may cause me to become even more exhausted and disgruntled. I will try to keep my current circumstances from affecting my stage presence, but _honestly,_ Will just was not thinking when he put this _place _on the map for our meet and greets.

What kind of hotel doesn't have Wi-Fi? Honestly. By the looks of this town, I wouldn't be surprised if they still used dial-up. All I want to do is just get on the internet and check my Facebook for the latest comments on my last uploaded video and my newly posted pictures from the _Rolling Stone _photo shoot. It may sound a little pretentious and diva-ish, for lack of a better word, of me, but I have a duty to see what my fans are saying about me. I like the attention and the compliments, and it's important to understand what people think so that I can make myself even better—if that's even possible.

That's it. I can hardly stand it any more. I'm going to go to the local movie store—apparently there's a Blockbuster down the street, though I don't now why a star like me would have to go get it myself—I should have a bell-boy or a servant or something. I have had the urge to watch the Rodgers and Hammerstein production of _Cinderella _for quite some time, and plus I want to take my car out on the road. Perhaps if I explore this disgusting town I'll find somebody worth talking to—oh a girl can wish, can't she? I'll run in, grab the movie, and run out—as long as none of the cast members find out, but judging from the noise next door, they are all probably partying in Mike's room and are probably so inebriated at this point that Will will be absolutely furious at how they are embarrassing themselves tomorrow. Knowing this backwards town, the Blockbuster will only have VHSs, but that's fine, this room has a VCR included with the TV from circa 1989.

I am going to fill out an extensive complaint card for this hotel tomorrow. And I will be sure to mention in my next interview that nobody in his right mind should stay even five minutes in this so-called city.

I put on my favorite purple dress—I have to look good in case I run into any of my many admirers—wrap a scarf around my neck—Will doesn't want us to be going out and being recognized publicly so I can at least try that—and throw my purse over my shoulder and run out the door. I'm almost knocked over by the reek of the poultry plant. This town is disgusting.

My cell phone rings. It's Kurt. Damn it. He's probably just intoxicated and if I answer he will probably criticize some aspect of me when obviously he is the one who is flawed. I take a breath and answer.

"Hello-"

"-_Rachel, _darling, why don't you come and join us in Mike's room... we're all insanely giddy right now and even your sour personality could not dampen the mood-"

"-Well, Kurt, as kind as that invitation is, I don't need your company to-"

He laughs at something in the background and I can hear Mike giggling like an idiot in the background. Kurt starts with something else when I see kid walking towards my car. From the distance, I can tell he would tower over me. He has short brown and an exquisite physique, but he looks as if he hasn't taken a shower in a week. How_ revolting_.

He gets closer and comes within a hair of brushing against my car. If he touches it, I don't care how big he is, I am calling security or the police or something. This Neanderthal is not allowed to even blink near my car.

I realize he's coming to me so I hang up on drunk Kurt so I can confront this overgrown loser in front of me.

When he is within a few steps of me, I glimpse that he's startlingly handsome. But he is trash and this is no time to flirt with this probably homeless stranger.

He stops nervously in front of me and begins to inquire. "Uh, do you have the time?"

Sighing to myself, I check my phone, and as I am about to answer, the brute slaps me viciously across the mouth and throws me over his shoulder like I am nothing but a pillow.

My heart pounding furiously in my chest, I do the only thing I can think of. Despite how filthy and grungy this thug is, and how squalid his hand probably is, I close my eyes and bite down as hard as I can. The taste of blood fills my mouth and I almost gag, but I hear a yelp.

Triumphantly, I open my mouth to scream, when the wind is knocked completely out of me. This man—no, he's an _animal—_hit me! How dare he?

Dizzy from the pain, I collapse and cannot move as he throws me in the backseat of a pathetic piece of transportation and slaps duct tape over my mouth.

Only when he starts driving do I realize what a predicament I am in.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


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